


A Moment With You

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, MTMTE, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helping Drift to de-stress is one of Ratchet's favorite chores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment With You

**Author's Note:**

> Meh. Some half-baked Dratchet fluff thingy. :/

Drift tried to concentrate on writing his report but the constant bleeping on his monitor interrupted him and irritated him.

Some of the messaged were from Rodimus, the contents being _‘You wanna have a drink tonight?’_ or _‘We totally should race someday again’_ or simply _‘Are you bored? Because I am to death!’_. But most were sent by Ultra Magnus, more work-related but still rather irrelevant – like _‘This punctuation is confusing. I recommend correcting it’_ , _‘There are two s’s in ‘access’’_ , _‘I don’t understand the concept of ‘do-hickey’. Please use official terminology’_ and so on.

The swordsmech’s monitor was flooded with instant messages from Ultra Magnus and soon he lifted his hands up in surrender, growling loudly in frustration. He buried his face into his hands, trying to calm himself down but then his comm. link woke up, a ping blaring in his HUD, nearly snapping his already too thin patience.

He was about to shout at that someone who had pinged him when he read the contact ID.

Ratchet.

He sighed and just ignored the request, not daring himself to be polite or even fake-excited.

Apparently that didn’t work because after a solid minute there was another ping from Ratchet which was declined as bluntly as the first one. As was the next one. And the next. And the next...

This time Drift really steeled himself to write those reports and send them to Ultra Magnus to be proofread and approved – or in every case, to be sent back to him with a request to ‘correct this’ or ‘change that’ or ‘be more specific with it’...

It was obvious that desk work was stressful for the white mech if the sharp typing or the way his optic ridge would frown every time there was a new message from the SIC were anything to go by. Drift wasn’t meant for this kind of work – he preferred field work!

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and gave up. Pushing himself away from the console, slightly swiveling in his office chair, Drift vented another sigh and pressed the heels of his palms into his closed optics. The chair under him creaked; another thing Ultra Magnus would point out to be taken care of.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment and then turned to look at his console and all the open report files and the notifications of unopened messages. He scooted over to the console, still sitting in his chair and closed all the message notifications, saved the unfinished reports and turned off the console.

Silence. Sweet, welcomed silence fell into the room. Drift vented briefly to get more relaxed before standing up and leaving his office and hab suite. In the corridor, he sent a ping to Ratchet.

_::Yes?::_

“Hi, Ratch.” Oh. His voice was gruff and little raspy.

_::Done for today?::_

“For now, at least.”

 _::Sorry I kept pinging you. I didn’t remember you had a report day until later::_ the medic said, sounding sincerely apologetic.

“It’s all right. I just don’t get it why Ultra Magnus insisted we must have report days”, Drift grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 _::Because otherwise the reports wouldn’t be done or they will but then all the work would fall on Ultra Magnus’ shoulders and that mech already has enough problems as it is::_ Ratchet admonished softly.

“Don’t you, too, start haranguing. I got enough of that from Ultra Magnus the other day”, the white mech snapped and immediately regretted it, “Ugh... I’m sorry. I’m just so exhausted from sitting in front of the console for hours.”

 _::Come over::_ the older mech offered, his tone carrying certain warmth through the link.

“Okay”, was the short reply and the comm. link was closed.

\----

Drift was actually quite happy for the invitation and within minutes he arrived at the door of Ratchet’s hab suite. He didn’t bother announcing his arrival but strode straight in.

The red and white mech was waiting him in the lounge, holding a cube in each hand. The younger mech smiled at that; it was nice to have someone expecting to see him. That feeling made his spark flutter and his smile widened, revealing his fangs.

“What’s with that grin?” Ratchet asked as he gave the other mech one of the cubes.

“It’s nice to see you”, Drift admitted, inclining his head in silent appreciation as he accepted the cube. It’d been several days since the last time he’d seen Ratchet. And he had missed him. Very much so.

The medic gestured Drift to come in and have a seat. The swordsmech slumped heavily on the couch, nearly spilling his drink.

“Must’ve been an intense session of writing reports.” That was spoken in a tone that held experience.

“Yeah, it was. My optics and head hurt”, the younger mech groaned as he tilted his head back to rest it on the back of the couch.

“Obviously”, the medic replied, noticing how dim and weary Drift’s optics were from staring at the console and trying to compensate the brightness.

“I mean, writing reports might not sound that onerous but when you’re working with a mech whose concentration span is that of a petrorabbit on boosters and Ultra Magnus, it’s nigh impossible to work in peace”, the swordsmech recounted and continued, “Just think about it: you’re writing and then comes a message that’s completely irrelevant or says you have to rewrite this word or that sentence. And you do that and send the corrected report. And then you return to the report you were working on before that message but you forgot what you were about to write. And that happens again and again until you can’t have anything productive done.”

Ending his rant with a huff, Drift covered his aching optics with his free hand, cursing the headache.

Ratchet grabbed the white mech’s legs and hoisted them on his lap. “Enough about work”, he grunted, “What would you like to do?”

Drift merely shrugged and peeked at the other mech from under his hand. “I’m fine with anything that would ease the headache”, he murmured, his hand flopping down. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he felt this tired.

“Then turn around and lay your head on my lap”, the older mech said and patted his thigh.

The white mech did as he was asked and relaxed once he lied down, an idle and quiet purr rumbling from his engine.

“I haven’t even started and you already purr”, Ratchet chuckled, bringing his empty hand to one of Drift’s finials, beginning to draw slow circles at the base and moving up along the flat of the finial, repeating the motion couple of times.

Smiling at the shiver that travelled throughout Drift’s body, the red and white mech ran a single finger up the bottom edge of the finial and then down the top edge, knowing this would help the younger mech to de-stress just fine. He downed the rest of his energon and set the cube aside to rub the curvy waist, enjoying the vibrations that came from Drift’s engine against his palm.

“Good?”

“Mmmyeah”, the swordsmech purred and turned to his side, nuzzling Ratchet’s warm stomach, closing his optics.

The medic rubbed the finial while stroking the waist at the same time, feeling himself starting to relax. He then reached for a data pad on the coffee table. The younger mech whimpered as the hand disappeared from his finial, searching for it blindly.

As a silent apology, Ratchet pressed his hand on the side of Drift’s head, assuring him the touch would return very soon. And it did, the white mech calming down immediately and the soothing purr returning as loud as it was.

Drift fell into light recharge while the older mech read his data pad, his skilled fingers finding every single sweet spot possible. This was a de-stressing session for both of them, really – and Drift loved it. Loved to be touched like this, loved to be with Ratchet. He loved the cozy, comfortable silence that managed to lull him into deep recharge.


End file.
